


haunt

by littlefirewriting



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Angst, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of reminiscing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Persona 5 Spoilers, Post-Canon, akechi is trying his gosh darn best, akira is still a man of few words and a lot of actions, im new here but enjoy anyway, mention of futaba sakura, mention of yusuke kitagawa, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:57:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19852681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefirewriting/pseuds/littlefirewriting
Summary: Gunshots echo somewhere in the back of his consciousness, and panic claws up his throat as Akira finally turns around and locks eyes with a ghost.People don’t come back from the dead, after all. He knows that better than anyone.





	haunt

Pale as the moon he used to stare at every night, Goro Akechi removes the wet gloves from his hands. Stumbling into Leblanc may have been a spur of the moment decision, if only to escape the downpour that threatened to soak him to the core. It isn’t the first time he’s considered bursting through that front door, considered reminding everyone of his existence-- whether or not they would welcome him with open arms is something he’d prefer not to dwell on, even if the thought crosses his mind on a near daily basis. Once inside, he took one look at the counter, and immediately wished he had allowed the chill to set in his bones outside instead. 

Maybe, if he prayed nicely, the gods would let him actually succumb to sickness; but he supposed this was punishment enough for all the crimes of his past. Akechi has been less than bright in the past, fueled more by a typhoon of emotion than the logic he had become ever so famous for. Perhaps that unstable heart is what drove him to ousting the remainder of a calm life out the window, for a chance to see the only person who has ever come close enough to stealing the organ straight out of his chest. There was no mistaking it, he’s followed Akira Kurusu into battle enough times to make out the line of his shoulders, taut in concentration as he seemed to stir something behind the counter. A vague mumble of greeting is tossed from his old leader’s lips, and it tugs a heartstring Goro had sworn he already severed. Gunshots echo somewhere in the back of his consciousness, and panic claws up his throat as Akira finally turns around and locks eyes with a ghost.

A dead man, a shadow of the connection he had grieved night after night stood before him. Akechi knows full well he can’t explain this away, and judging by Akira’s stunned stare, he deduces that even if it takes months or years; he will have to come clean eventually. People don’t come back from the dead, after all. He knows that better than anyone.

A shaking hand flips wet bangs back into their rightful position, crimson eyes tearing away from the man before him and settling on the stained surface to his left. The tables were empty, and the Boss was nowhere to be found. Akechi wasn’t sure if that soothed him or fueled his turmoil, but it at least gave him an ounce of confidence to speak the words that resounded in his mind every time he passed Leblanc.

“Honey-”

His lips stay parted, lashes blinking rapid fire to keep the liquid emotion out of his eyes. Goro Akechi didn’t cry.  
Or, at least, he refused to before.

A hand wipes at his eyes, trembling lips turning upwards with a shaky inhale.

“I’m home.” He finishes, not daring to remove his self imposed blindfold out of fear of what sight might greet him.  
Rage, anger, disappointment-

Or, worst of all, nothing. A blank expression, cold. A shell of Akira Kurusu staring back at him, uncaring and unwilling to hear a single word out of Goro’s mouth. He had been forgotten and buried once again, right? It wouldn’t surprise him.

Panic floods his chest once more, and his head spins. His free hand turns to clamp over the one already over his eyes, shoulders hunching inwards as he hears footsteps follow the familiar path, past the booths they used to gather around.

All memories of a time both easier and more difficult than anything he’d ever faced before. Each footstep brought something back to him. Futaba and Yusuke animatedly bickering over the aesthetics of the newest season of her favorite show, Ryuji cackling along. A quiet study session, interrupted only by the wooden clack of Leblanc’s closing sign being flipped. The tick of seconds passing as Akechi watched Akira’s hands, gracefully knocking another pawn of his board, another image of those hands claiming his king, fingers wrapped around his certain defeat-

Gentle fingers wrapped around his own wrist, easing trembling hands down to his sides in an attempt to calm, to soothe.

“You’ll hurt yourself, Akechi.”

A phrase he’s been telling himself since he met Akira, since he decided that the other man was the most intriguing yet infuriating specimen on this Earth. Since he decided that he would collect every bit of knowledge he could about Akira, whether or not it was personal interest or something he could label purely work related.

After the fact, Akechi would consider that learning his favorite blend of coffee, his favorite color, memorizing the tells of his face; none of that was fueled by work, but by his own emotional attachment. The one bond that he hadn’t planned to forge was the one he would value the most, and the one that would lead to him crying in an empty cafe, held by hands that threatened to rebuild him as much as they could take him apart.

Akechi sucks in a breath, attempts to clear the incessant fuzz out of his brain, and allows himself to open his eyes. Akira is blurry at first, only coming into focus as he blinks the rest of the tears out of his eyes. The brunet’s heart leaps as fingers other than his own come to his aid, swiping away the wetness under his eyes.

Up close, Akechi can see the conflict swirling in Akira’s eyes. He’s seen it plenty before, but in this proximity it’s truly something else, evoking some combination of regret and relief in his chest. The regret of causing more turmoil, and the relief of knowing that he still triggers something in Akira’s chest all the same. He’s sure the emotion reflects back in his own gaze. Akira releases his wrists, taking a small step back, soaking in the sight of the ex-detective in all his tainted glory.

His eyes glint, no hesitation preceding his next words.

“Welcome home, Goro.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello persona 5 has got me by the balls, bare with me as i try to figure out how to write all my boys (and gorls)
> 
> i'm @gendices on twitter!!


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